


Moonlighting

by mongoose_bite



Series: Dyce the Incredibly Easy Breton [25]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Era, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/pseuds/mongoose_bite
Summary: An uninvited guest arrives on a night of the full moons...
Relationships: Dyce/Sejuani (oc)
Series: Dyce the Incredibly Easy Breton [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/29749
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20
Collections: OC Kiss Bingo 2020





	Moonlighting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AshYamStew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshYamStew/gifts).



> Another fic for the discord server, this time featuring [Ash Yam Stew's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sejuani) OC Sejuani. Thank you for letting me borrow her; I hope I did her justice, and I'm sorry this fic took so long to be written.

“Tell me how you’re feeling, Sejuani. What does your interior weather look like today?” Cirrbur asked, as they strolled under the large trees planted along the perimeter fence of the Institute.

Doctor Please Just Call Me Cirrbur was an older Redguard. His approach was paternal without being condescending, and Sejuani appreciated how readily he’d agreed to these ‘walking sessions’ as he called them. It was much more pleasant than sitting in his office.

Which didn’t mean it was all that pleasant overall and she’d much rather not have to speak to him in the first place. She’d stayed at the Institute once for several months, and going back never failed to remind her of those times, when the fence beyond the trees did more than just obscure the view; it described her whole world.

She didn’t really like Cirrbur’s interior weather metaphor either, but nevertheless she dutifully answered.

“Unsettled. The breeze is ruffling the surface of the pond. I want to walk faster.”

“Outrun something perhaps?” he asked wisely, and Sejuani politely allowed him to think he’d come up with something she hadn’t already thought of.

He nodded understandingly, although he could never truly understand her because he was entirely human.

There would be full moons tonight. It was one of those awful times where they coincided with her mandatory therapy, which meant they’d keep her twice as long, seeing how she was coping with the upcoming evening. She knew she’d be feeling so much better if she were home.

Home.

She pictured it, the little farm she’d bought with money originally set aside for college, the forested slopes around the old stone farmhouse. The endless list of things to do, things to take care of, the soil, the seeds, the bees, the animals. She counted down in her head the number of hours until she’d be among them again and mistress of her domain.

Eventually Cirrbur gave her the usual advice and she was free to go, another six months of freedom guaranteed. She did some shopping in town, her pickup loaded with essentials and a handful of luxuries and her prescriptions safely filled. The sun was sinking low when she turned onto the winding back roads. Moonrise was a few hours away yet. Only the occasional letterbox or hand-painted sign advertising homemade preserves or cheap firewood indicated there was anyone in the world but her. She wound the window down and let the slipstream play with her hair, breathing deep of the fresh forest air.

It was only when she passed her own letterbox, leaning out of the window to retrieve a couple of catalogues and a bill on the way, she truly began to relax. She noted the places where she’d have to come by and cut back the ever-encroaching forest from her road, the pickup bouncing slightly as she navigated the smoothest path through the ruts and potholes that lined the ungraded track.

Home sweet home. Her thoughts flew ahead of the truck to the end of the road, to all the things to be done when she got there. She was anticipating the sweet relief of quiet and solitude when she saw the tailgate of another car on the road ahead of her.

Her happy thoughts instantly came to a dead stop and she slowed the truck to a crawl, affronted by the disruption to her plans. The car was unfamiliar, and she knew all her neighbour’s cars. None of them would ever have attempted to drive her road in anything so utterly unsuited for the purpose anyway.

The driver seemed to be alone, and when he heard her coming he walked out behind his car to flag her down.

As she drew abreast of him, she saw the front left of the car’s tyres was good and stuck in one of the ruts she knew to avoid without even thinking about it. Sejuani mentally braced herself to speak to the stranger, resting her arm out the window.

“Hey, good evening,” he said, with a relieved smile.

He was a Breton, not a Nord as she’d first assumed. Not particularly tall but lean and leggy. He had a couple days worth of scruff on a face framed by rather unkempt but striking red hair. He was wearing a battered leather jacket and jeans, and boots as unsuitable for hiking as his car was for unsealed roads. Of all the types of people who might visit her uninvited he didn’t make sense as any of them. And the sheer fact that he was clogging up her road with his stupid car on a full moon night essentially negated his general attractiveness.

He approached the open window, and she couldn’t help but breathe him in a little. At least he wasn’t a werewolf; this close to the full moon she was capable of picking one downwind at ten paces, a useful ability that of course went both ways. He didn’t smell too bad though, better than most folks she’d spent the afternoon trying not to breathe in.

She wished fervently that he wasn’t here. Not now. Not tonight, and if she was honest not ever. She didn’t need any more disruptions than what the moons brought her.

“I’ve been trying to call a tow truck,” he said, taking out his phone. “But no luck.”

“No, you can’t get reception here,” she said. “It bounces off the mountains.”

Of course she was going to help him. Moons or not, it wasn’t in her nature to do anything else.

“You can use the phone at my farm,” she said. “Get in.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it, I wasn’t looking forward to spending the night out here, and I’m not dumb enough to try and walk back this late in the day. I’m Dyce, by the way.”

She leaned over to unlock the passenger side door and he walked around and climbed in.

“Sejuani,” she said. Since he wasn’t offering a second name, neither would she, but she noticed something like a flicker of recognition in his face regardless. She felt uneasy. Maybe it was the inexorably rising moons, maybe it wasn’t.

She put the truck in gear and drove around Dyce’s stranded car, bouncing in and then out again of the ditch beside the road, brambles whipping through the open window until she was back on the road again.

“So what are you doing out here anyway?” she asked.

“Getting lost,” Dyce grumbled. “The car had a map, but most of these roads aren’t marked, and no one puts their name on their letterbox either.”

“People like their privacy.”

“Then I apologise for disturbing yours.”

She shrugged. There wasn’t much to be done about it now, but she knew the roadside assistance would take hours at best. Why did it have to be tonight?

Even with the added complication of Dyce she felt the familiar happy spark she always did when she arrived home. Long ago someone had carved this farm out of the forest, dammed up a little stream into a clear, still pond, and created an acreage that supported a small orchard, several beehives, a large, productive garden, and several steep paddocks now grazed by Sejuani’s modest flock of sheep.

Dyce got out and opened and closed the front gate for her, and she drove the truck into the barn by the side of the house.

“Nice place,” Dyce said. “You run it alone?”

“I hire some help during harvest,” she said shortly. He hadn’t asked in a judgemental way, unlike some of her more traditionally-minded neighbours, and she knew that she could physically tear him apart if he was any sort of threat.

What scared her more was that she might want to.

“Coffee?” she asked. “I have to do some things, but I’ll show you the phone first.”

“Point me to the coffee and I’ll have it ready when you come back,” he said. “Uhh, before I call, can you tell me where I actually am? They might want directions.”

She gave him the lot number and went to bring the animals in for the night before unloading the truck. The sky was still light, but the stars were starting to come out, and when she looked to the east she itched with unspecified restlessness. Time was running short.

She’d be fine, she told herself. Her chickens had already tucked themselves up for the night, and only wanted the coop closed, and she smelled their drowsy feathery scent mixed with their seed and shit and thought about killing them.

No. It was fine. She felt fine.

Sheep next.

She whistled and called, and counted them in. She didn’t fear wolves the way other folks had to. She knew when a pack came too close for comfort and she saw them off long before her sheep were threatened. She was by far the biggest danger to them.

She was hungry, she realised, but when the sheep trotted through the gate into the pen she ran her hand along their woolly backs and let them pass her without effort.

She worked up a slight sweat unloading the back of the truck and, jobs completed, she carried the armfuls of groceries back to the house, the windows casting warm spots of light on the path around the side. But her skin itched as she picked up the smell of coffee she hadn’t brewed herself and the sound of a stranger’s voice from by the phone in the hall.

This was the real test. She’d pass it, of course. Nothing to be scared of.

“It doesn’t have a name, it’s a road to someone’s house,” Dyce sounded dreadfully patient. “No, I’m not. I’m in the house. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to call you. Yes. Okay, thank you.”

He caught her eye as he put the phone down.

“Well, they’re going to be hours, but they’re coming. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Sejuani had expected nothing better, and she was resigned to having a guest as the moons rose.

“At least the car’s a rental,” Dyce continued. “My usual ride isn’t insured.” Sejuani eyed him dubiously as she poured the coffee. Dyce didn’t appear to notice. He was, she decided as he looked around her neat kitchen, a bit of an idiot.

“Where are you from?” she asked. “You sound like you’re from Skyrim.”

“Not originally. Thanks,” he accepted the coffee and shook his head to sugar and milk. “I live in Riften currently, but I travel a lot for work. Have you ever been to Skyrim?”

“I was going to go for college,” she said, and there was that flash of disquieting interest again. “But that never happened.”

“I never went either. Nothing to be ashamed of, this is a nice alternative.”

“What was yours?”

He laughed, like the very idea that one had to have an alternative was both surprising and delightful. “I fucked around,” he said, grinning, not the oddly professional expressions he’d been wearing up until now, something realer. More him.

The first of the moons were rising. Had to be, why else could she scent him so clearly, see him so sharply, sure she could count his eyelashes half a room away, hear him breathe? Until he stopped breathing. Isn’t that how it ends? All the advice she’d dutifully recited for her therapists deserted her, but she gathered enough of her wits to know she had to get away, put some distance in.

“I’ll make us some dinner,” she said. “But I’m going to shower first.” Usually it was a huge relief to wash off the smells of the Institute and the grocery store, and one of the first things she did when she got home.

Dyce offered to help cook if need be although the vague way he said it didn’t fill her with confidence.

“There’s no need. I always prepare dinner in advance when I know I’ll be out.”

Half-true. She also always pre-prepared a huge carbohydrate rich dinner every full moon to help put herself to sleep afterwards. Tonight she’d just have to share.

She fled to the bathroom, the mere existence of a visitor making her feel self-conscious as she stripped, almost angrily.

She filled up the bathroom with steam, using far more hot water than she normally did, but she was trying to drown her nose in it, and in the innocuous scents of her homemade soaps.

It worked until she opened the bathroom door, but she’d put some time and space between herself and Dyce’s electrifying smile was able to approach the kitchen again with some equanimity once she’d put on clean clothes. Dyce was sitting at the kitchen table with his coffee, and Sejuani found herself surprised by his easy patience, even though there was nothing much for him to do. In her experience visitors to the woods had trouble staying still.

Her full moon menu was always vegetarian, and she set to reheating the thick vegetable stew she’d made the day before, and thawing out bread rolls in the oven. She tried not to look at Dyce, focusing on the food.

When she served it he thanked her briefly but fervently and attacked the meal. Depending on how long he’d been lost he might not have had any lunch, she realised, and felt guilty for making him wait.

“Home grown vegetables, I assume?” he asked when he’d finished.

“Not all of them,” she said.

“I enjoyed them regardless. Do you want me to wash up?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.” She stacked the bowls by the sink. When she peered out the window she could see a sliver of orange moon through the trees, and then her eyes focused on Dyce’s reflection in the glass. He wasn’t facing her directly but he was watching her. It was the cautious, sideways glance of a predator sizing up potential prey.

Fuck that. She was never going to be prey again, and she turned to face him, her back against the edge of the sink.

“Why are you here?” she demanded rather than asked. “You never answered me earlier. Are you looking for someone?”

Rather than answering he met her accusing gaze and asked a question of his own. “Where were you on the fourteenth of Sun’s Dusk 198?”

It was such a bizarre question she could only stare at him bewildered. “What? How would I know?”

“If it helps you remember, the moons were full.” He was looking at her directly, and she crossed her arms, muscles tensing in a sudden burst of adrenaline. There was something wolflike in him too, and he wasn’t trying to hide it any more. He’d ceased circling, ceased stalking.

Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, _don’t kill him_ , she pleaded to herself in time with the pounding of her heart.

She found her voice. It wasn’t a howl.

“I was here. I’ve spent every full moon here since First Seed 195.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, fool that he was, as he relaxed his guard.

“Okay. Thank you. To answer your earlier question, I’m a private detective. You can see my licence if you want.” She didn’t move and neither did he. She was still tense, her fingernails digging into her arms. Still fingernails, not claws.

“You knew about me. How did you know? They’re supposed to keep it secret!” Her voice cracked.

“They do keep it secret, Sejuani. I know better than to even ask. What happened to your friend, however, was a matter of public record. If you want to find werewolves, you track down the survivors of werewolf attacks.” He spoke softly and calmly.

“So you knew, and you came here on a full moon night? Are you completely stupid?”

“To be fair, I didn’t intend to be here this late. Besides, I don’t think I’m in any danger.”

“I could kill you.”

He shrugged. “You won’t. Anyway, I got what I came for, and I appreciate the help you’ve given me, and the meal, and I apologise for disturbing your privacy. I’ll walk back to my car and wait for the tow truck, and leave you in peace.”

He dipped his head politely and stood up to go.

“What did they do?” Sejuani asked. “The werewolf you’re looking for.”

Dyce sighed. “Attacked a second year history student on the College of Winterhold campus a few years ago. The police investigated but didn’t find the culprit and her family hired me to see if I could do better. They were wrong,” Dyce looked at her. “The police actually did a thorough job. Probably because it was Winterhold and not Markarth or Riften, but they only had the resources to pursue it so far. A dead end in Skyrim meant Solstheim was the next place to look. And here I am.”

She shook her head. You stupid man, she thought angrily, angered even further by the fact that his motivations were good. He didn’t actually deserve what he’d get if he succeeded in his quest.

“I might not kill you, but the beast you’re looking for would. They’ve already proved they’re dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m not as reckless as you think. If I thought there was a chance you were the culprit I’d never have asked you directly. And I can defend myself.”

She snorted derisively.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cylinder.

“Do you know what this is?”

She shook her head.

“It’s not strictly legal for civilian use, but I have friends in low places. Guaranteed to drop a raging werewolf in ten seconds or less. And put almost anything else in an instant coma.”

She could feel the moonlight shining through the window at her back, a phantom heat like the memory of a midsummer day. Enough thinking, the beast clamoured. Act. Use your rage.

Leap.

She leaped. Right at him, right over the table, clearing it effortlessly with a snarl and slamming Dyce into the wall, her left forearm braced across his chest and her other hand wrapped around his wrist so he wouldn’t be able to use the tranquilliser still grasped in his hand.

“Do you get it now?” She bared her teeth at him, the beast in her still leashed. “You have no chance.”

He hadn’t tried to resist her. He’d looked a bit shocked and had braced himself for impact but otherwise hadn’t made a move. She glared at him, willing him to admit the truth she spoke.

He kissed her instead.

Tilted his head enough to press his lips to hers, and fool she was she inhaled sharply in surprise. Breathed him right in, forgot to pull away. Maybe if he’d moved to try and hold her like others might have, it would have broken the spell, but he didn’t. He let her keep him in place.

It wasn’t a gesture of submission; she didn’t understand what it was, wasn’t thinking much at all.

He tasted aroused. The realisation squeezed a sound from her own throat and she flung herself back, away from him with dawning horror at how close the beast was to the surface; if she hadn’t been on stabilisers-

“You’re really scared of yourself, aren’t you?” She blinked and focused on him again. “You don’t have to be.” He smiled faintly. “The beast doesn’t always want to kill, you know.” He put the cylinder back in his pocket. She didn’t dare move.

“Okay.” He held up his empty hands. “I’m going. It’ll be alright, Sejuani. You’re a good person, and so is your beast. Well, not a person. It’s a good beast.”

He backed away slowly, and she heard him distinctly even once he was out of sight; floorboards, front door, heavy (ragged? You do _not_ care,) sigh, footsteps on gravel, fading as he walked towards the gate, and even then she could see the glow from his phone as he lit the way for his weak, human eyes.

Sejuani let her knees give way and she slid to the floor, her heart still pounding. She didn’t know what the beast wanted any more. Or she wasn’t going to admit it.

She licked her lips and tasted him anew, and with a growl she leaped to her feet to wash her face in the sink. Then the bowls, his coffee cup, everything. It made no difference, she knew he was still out there, like an unseen splinter in her heel. Unignorable.

How dare he talk about the beast so calmly? What did he know about it?

No, she needed to calm down, not work herself up. He’ll be gone soon, and she need never think about him again.

So she waited, as the moons cleared the treetops one by one, and her garden and the surrounding forest glowed. Eventually her ears picked up the sound of a distant engine. In the still night she could hear it coming closer, then stop around where Dyce’s car was stuck.

She listened and realised she was touching her lips with her fingertips. She heard Dyce’s car start.

As much as she wanted to shed her skin and run, she put on her coat and slipped a completely superfluous torch into the pocket, and walked purposefully, but only on two legs, down the road. Both vehicles had their lights on, and Dyce’s car was out of the rut. Dyce himself was standing by the door of the tow-truck talking with the driver, a burly nord with an unkempt beard and an unceasing flow of advice for his captive audience.

Sejuani turned on her torch. She didn’t mean to sneak up on them.

“You got it sorted then?” she sung out, wincing at the fake, folksy niceness her subconscious had chosen to mask the stress in her voice.

If Dyce was surprised by her attitude he didn’t show it.

“He winched it, although he probably could have just lifted it out himself.” Dyce was being charming, for no reason Sejuani could see, and it irritated her.

“So could she, I’m sure,” the driver nodded at her, and Sejuani suspected flattery from her direction would be far more welcome. “Next time, you’ll want a car with more clearance,” he continued.

“There’s space to turn around further up,” Sejuani interrupted him before he could launch into a lecture. “I’ll drive your car,” she told Dyce flatly. “I don’t want it getting stuck again.”

He didn’t argue and they got in. Dyce eyed her with raised eyebrows as she started his car. “Later,” she said. “After this guy’s gone.”

Their inky shadows were puddled at their feet by the time the tow truck felt its way back down the road. Dyce’s car was parked near the gate, and he stood next to her, hands in his pockets, admiring the night.

“High moon,” Dyce said softly. There was so much light even he should be able to see pretty clearly. For Sejuani it might have been daylight. From a distance of a few feet she could clearly hear his breathing. So much for getting rid of him.

But it wasn’t about him. Not entirely.

“I want to help,” Sejuani said. “Someone should find this beast. I’m sick of them just getting away with it-” she cut herself off. If she thought too hard about an innocent student walking across campus on a night as bright as this one she really would lose it.

She might not rampage through the woods, but she could burst into tears and that would almost be worse. There hadn’t been someone like Dyce to track down _her_ attackers after the police had given up.

Dyce took a deep breath. He didn’t ask why; she supposed the answer was obvious given what he knew of her past. “Let me think about it,” he said. “There might be something you can do, but I’m too tired to work it out right now. It’s been a long day.”

Sejuani made up the couch for him, and spent a restless night in her own room, trying endlessly to get comfortable and to stop her thoughts from roaming down the hall to where her guest slumbered. She kept the blinds closed to the moonlit night, but she could still tell when the moons set, and she finally slept a little deeper.

She woke early as she always did, to a silent house still sheltering a stranger. Sejuani usually just did the morning chores in a sleepy daze after the full moons but today she flung herself out of bed and straightened first the bedclothes then her hair, feeling rather self-conscious about it as she selected some of the nicer at-home clothes from her wardrobe.

The rush was needless. Dyce was still curled up under the blankets on her couch when she emerged, and she felt weirdly disappointed. He didn’t stir until she’d done her morning rounds, and the kitchen was full of the smell of coffee and the sound of frying eggs.

Sunlight was blunting her senses a bit, but the beast inside her reacted with untoward joy when Dyce wandered freshly showered into the kitchen and wished her a good morning.

Fuck off, she thought, as she also thought about burying her nose under his jaw. It was easier when I wanted to eat him, she thought sourly.

She ate eggs and toast and coffee instead, and Dyce dug out a laptop from the battered suitcase he’d brought in from his car the night before and placed it on the kitchen table.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” he began. “But the therapy you lot are required to go through usually involves at least some group work.”

“Not anymore,” Sejuani said. “I hated it. A few years ago I convinced them that I didn’t need to do it.”

Dyce’s face had fallen slightly, then he looked up again. “But you used to?”

“They told me I had to. I did everything they asked me to,” she said, staring at her hands. “I didn’t want to see any werewolves ever again!” It had been unavoidable though, especially in the mirror.

“Hey,” Dyce snapped her out of the memory threatening to spiral. “This is voluntary, okay?”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He turned the laptop around. “I want you to tell me if you recognise anyone.” Rows and rows of head shots, mostly younger people of all races confronted her. “These are College of Winterhold student records from the year in question.”

“Are you supposed to have these?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He appeared unrepentant.

“I’ll delete it when I’m done. I need the hard drive space anyway.” He shrugged. “This is all I have. It’s a bit of a long shot, but this whole case is a long shot, as I told the client when I agreed to take it.”

She took a deep breath, and turned her attention to the screen.

It was harder work than she’d realised, and every twenty minutes or so Dyce would make her stop, offer her coffee or a few minutes conversation to give her eyes and brain a rest.

She kept imagining that she recognised people, a familiar jawline or nose, and Dyce made a note of each one she pointed out. She didn’t realise how her mind was playing tricks until she saw him.

Remembered him.

To see a face she truly did recognise was like a bucket of ice water and she sucked in a breath.

Dyce was at her side in a moment, leaning over her shoulder and he was comforting, still smelled good in sunlight; better, maybe. But all this was in the back of her mind, where the beast still felt the moons; her attention was focused on the screen in front of her, and the blonde nord man with the narrow nose and the slightly self-satisfied smile.

“That one.” She pointed at the screen and realised her hand was shaking slightly. “He was in group therapy with me for a while, but I think he moved away.” Maybe to Skyrim, she thought, trying to remember exactly when it happened.

It might not be him, she reminded herself, it might all be a coincidence, or she could be wrong - her beast tore itself away from admiring Dyce’s profile and a surge of anger and certainty filled her. Instincts were to be trusted, she was _not_ wrong about recognising him at least.

“He wasn’t there long. I can’t even remember his name. Jorgen, or Yurden or something like that; we never used last names. I don’t remember him saying much either.” But she did remember how it felt to be surrounded by wolves, and how her own beast hated it. How she’d forced herself.

The beast might have known best after all.

“Are you all right?” Dyce was watching her with concern. “You should stop for now.”

She couldn’t disagree. “I need air,” she said. She didn’t stay in the garden for long, just enough to count the sheep; Dyce was reluctant to let her continue, but in her heart she knew the job was nearly done; she’d scan the rest of the pictures for completeness, but the hard part was over.

They had to run a power cord to the laptop to keep it going, but by mid afternoon, she’d run out of pictures. She closed the lid of the laptop, never wanting to look at a screen again, her eyes and head aching gently.

Dyce was still in the room, a near-silent, supportive presence, and she understood it was part of his job to be so if necessary, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“You did well,” he told her. “Now you can take a break. I need to make some notes.”

She couldn’t get away fast enough, abandoning the kitchen table, helping herself to yet another mug of coffee before stepping out into the afternoon sun while Dyce took her place in front of the screen.

She busied herself outdoors as the shadows grew longer and her headache ebbed. The moons wouldn’t be full tonight, but they were close, and her beast was restless after spending the day hunched at a table, Dyce’s presence a promise she hadn’t remembered making to herself.

They were done. He was going to leave. He should leave. Not yet, her beast howled silently, not until I get what we want.

She put the animals inside for the night, and as she approached the house she watched Dyce through the window in the lighted kitchen considering something on his laptop. Focused, wolflike, on the hunt.

He was not a wolf. She was glad of that.

“You shouldn’t go after him,” she said. He looked up as she marched into the kitchen. “It’s too dangerous; he’ll kill you.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?” Dyce sounded amused, leaning back in the chair as she stood over him. “Hunt him down and put his head on my wall? I’m a PI, not an assassin.”

“So what are you going to do? Tell the police?”

“Not first thing. I need to find out if he’s actually a werewolf for a start, and if he is then I’ll tell them someone slipped through the net. At the very least he’s unregistered, and they can decide what else he might be guilty of from there.”

“How are you going to determine if he’s a wolf?” she asked.

Dyce shrugged. “I’ll ask another wolf.”

“You know that many wolves?” she felt obscurely jealous.

“I’m an Associate Member of the Companions,” Dyce grinned, looking proud.

Sejunani rolled her eyes. Oh. Them. They were regarded as a bit of a joke by the wolves of Solstheim, although she supposed their hearts were in the right place; they did charity motorbike rides and provided support programs and education for new wolves and their families. Sejuani found their ‘embrace your inner beast’ philosophy unpalatable, even if it worked for others.

But it did reassure her a little that Dyce had some sort of protection, and it explained his attitude towards her as well; why he was so accepting of the beast, why she couldn’t smell any fear on him, no matter how close her bared teeth had been to his throat.

The memory of that moment and the one that followed sharpened her focus on him, her gaze dropping to his lips.

“Why’d you kiss me?” she asked. She was quite sure he’d never refer to it again if she didn’t bring it up. Their work was done. He was going to leave and if she didn’t have everything out before he did it was going to nag at her.

She hadn’t intended to be so abrupt about it either, but Dyce took it in his stride. He shrugged and smiled. “I thought you might like it. Or at least, part of you might. A pretty someone pushes you against a wall, what would you want to do?”

“I’d rip their hands off me,” she said.

He looked down at the floor and then up at her from under his hair. “Then should I apologise?”

This was it then. A question that asked and would answer a dozen others. The moons were rising again, nearly full, her beast filling her ribcage warm and wanting under her skin, but it wasn’t after blood and bone.

She could let it loose, right here, push it past the chemicals that leashed it, and he’d be safe from her regardless and the relief of knowing that nearly punched the air out of her.

“No,” she said finally. “I grabbed you, after all.”

“I didn’t mind.” He held her gaze with a funny little smile; on anyone else it would have been smug.

“You liked it,” she said, the wolf just behind her words now, panting, urging her to do it again.

“I did.” This time he went to her, closing the laptop as he got to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers. He didn’t have her senses, he couldn’t have, but she felt he knew anyway that her breath was quickening, her pulse thudding in her chest as he approached, unhesitating, that lupine smile on his face, his focus now on her.

He reached out for her, slid slightly cold fingers along her jaw, cupping the side of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he drew her in. So she went, and the urging of the beast and the moons, his lips brushing her nose, her cheek, as she buried her face in his neck, his stubble prickling at her skin as she nuzzled him, breathing him in. It was intoxicating, she didn’t remember opening her mouth but his skin tasted of salt, and she could taste his pleasure as her teeth scraped his throat.

He tilted his head back submissively for her, but his hands were wandering, tugging gently on her hair, trailing down her spine, sliding into the back pocket of her jeans and squeezing. She rolled her hips forward in response, grinding against the bulge in his jeans and the world tilted sideways and his shoulder hit the wall before they caught themselves.

Dyce laughed at their clumsiness and when she lifted her mouth from his neck he kissed her and they staggered, lust-drunk down the darkening hallway, loath to take their hands off each other.

She wasn’t as good at this as he was. By the time they’d made it to her bedroom, he’d untucked and unbuttoned her shirt, and had removed his hand from her pocket to start unhooking her bra while she was still fumbling at his belt, resisting the urge to use her real strength and snap it.

“I’ll do it,” he said, and she stepped back to let him. Only the smallest and faintest splashes of moonlight made it through the trees, shining palely on her ceiling. Normally it was banished, blinds closed at dusk, but now she barely thought of them, clumsily undressing herself and glad he couldn’t see in the dark. Dyce slithered out of his clothes in such a way that suggested he hadn’t forgotten she could, stretching like a cat as he pulled his shirt off, displaying himself.

She opened her mouth to start an awkward conversation, to explain she was hardly prepared, but Dyce had condoms in his _pockets_ , not even in his wallet, producing them as casually as a stick of gum.

Sejuani was bemused, might have judged him a little and then felt bad about it, but her beast was delighted, _sought after_ , it thought, a prize coveted by others, a male of quality.

It hadn’t really steered her wrong yet, had it?

The beast showed its belly to Dyce and Sejuani did the same, lying back on her bed like she was tame, reaching out to run her fingers down his ribs, his stomach, brushing her fingertips across the blunt head of his cock as he knelt over her to prove she wasn’t.

Moonlight dripped down the wall, and the beast was not patient, huffing in her throat and making her legs twitch as Dyce played with her, kissing her breasts, plucking at her nipples before trailing his hand down, past her navel to slide his hand between her legs and crook his fingers, a beckoning gesture that had her gasping, her hips lifting off the bed. She’d waited long enough as well.

The beast did not like the smell of latex, but it wasn’t getting everything its own way, and Sejuani wrapped her legs around Dyce’s hips and hissed softly as he sank in. She could see him clearly in the dark, could hear every hitch of his breathing, feel his pulse through his ribs, smell the sweat and arousal on his skin. She was fascinated, until the beast—who was in charge now exactly?—urged him to move, and her higher brain functions shut down as he did so and she clawed him down, pulling his head down to her mouth, her fingers digging into his back.

Once he was sure she was comfortable with him, a kindness she appreciated and the beast did not, he snapped his hips forward, hard, and she heard a barking cry that she realised had to come from her. A few moments more of this treatment and her thoughts were jumbled, some vague nonsense about thanking the wolf that had taught him _this_ , and she was lost, fucking him back hard enough that her legs would ache the next morning, her ankles hooked around his back as they rutted. She didn’t think she’d ever moved in tandem with the beast like this before, would have held part of herself back to step in and control it if necessary. Not necessary; in this moment they had complete understanding of each other.

She’d think about it later, when she was alone and the moons were distant.

She let herself go in a way that should have scared her other circumstances but now she lent into it, crying out, and wrapping herself around him, greedy for pleasure, not thought of holding back or waiting, letting her orgasm build and coming with abandon, trusting him to fuck her through it.

He did. She was disappointed she hadn’t marked the moment he’d come, but when she surfaced he had relaxed in her arms, satiated for now at least.

She smelled blood. She gasped in horror and lifted her hands from his back. Still fingers, not claws. He gently levered himself off her and she wiggled out from under him, sitting up to get a look at the damage, the red lines she’d scored across his shoulder blades.

“It’s fine,” he said, reaching back to touch them gingerly. “Just scratches.” She waited for him to say he’d had worse, but he merely smiled and brushed her hair away from her face. “It’s fine, Sejuani.”

“I’ll get you some aloe,” she said.

“I’d prefer some dinner, honestly.”

As soon as he’d said it she realised she was starving, and he probably was too. “Both then,” she said. The moons were high now, the house full of shadows. She slipped through them easily, Dyce feeling his way at a slower pace. She hadn’t stopped for clothes in her rush to tend to his wounds, and he seemed at ease with the idea of going without.

He’s more wolf than I am, she thought, as she stepped out the kitchen door, and into the moon-drenched garden, picking her way over to the aloe plant and snapping off a leaf. The beast wanted to lope off joyfully and hunt something, but Sejuani returned to the kitchen and split the aloe with her fingernail before applying it to Dyce’s back as he sat at the table.

“So, face down next time?” he asked as she turned to wash aloe off her hands, his gaze tracking her arse, which couldn’t have been more than a pale blur to him, but she appreciated the attention anyway.

“Food first?” she reminded him with a grin.

“Oh yes, please.”

Sejuani rarely slept well, especially around the full moons, and tonight was no exception to that rule. Most of her blankets ended up on the floor, as she intermittently dozed, the blinds still open to the moonlight.

The rest of the time, just quietly, she howled, Dyce panting in her ear.

Sejuani woke with the dawn as usual, and didn’t disturb her bedmate, contenting herself with observing him for a few moments before getting up and padding to the shower. It was with mixed relief and regret she replaced the scent of her guest on her skin with her usual soap.

After breakfast Dyce packed up his laptop and closed his suitcase. He hadn’t encroached on her personal space since she’d left him dozing in her bed, made no claims on her. She was glad, but it was a slightly melancholy gladness. 

“I had a thought,” he said as he picked up his suitcase. “About the girl whose family hired me, if she wanted someone to talk to-”

“Yes,” Sejuani said, before he’d finished speaking. “Yes, I will. I’ll write down my email.”

“No one else gets this, I promise,” he said as he accepted the piece of paper.

“I know.”

She drove him to her letterbox and they stood beside his car, the driver’s door open, the engine still idling.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’ve been a lot of help.”

He glanced down and took her hand, pushing back her sleeve to reveal the pale scar on her forearm. She wondered how he’d noticed it in the dark, but he had been very attentive. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the scar in an oddly courtly gesture.

“Take care of yourself, Sejuani.”

She rolled her eyes, “I should be saying that to you. I’m serious.”

“I know, I will.”

He winked at her and she shook her head as he got into his car and pulled onto the road. She waited until the dust had settled in its wake and started walking back through the woods.

Slowly, because it was a lovely day.


End file.
